


Rebels without a cause

by YvonneSilver



Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Young Derek Morgan, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5313791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YvonneSilver/pseuds/YvonneSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was 1991, and 9-year old Sam Winchester had just moved house for the fourth time that year. He wasn’t sure whether his father was stepping up the chase now that he didn’t have to hide his work from his youngest son, or if he was setting the high pace as punishment for finding out the truth earlier that year. Either way, Sam entered Chicago knowing he wouldn’t be there long enough to make friends. What he couldn’t know is that in the week he was there he’d nevertheless manage to make one friend, and that friend would lead him straight to his first ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebels without a cause

Sam had used to love going to big cities. He had loved watching skyscrapers grow on the skyline, knowing they were full of people living happy, ordinary lives. As they got closer, the street would get busier and busier, and Sam would try to peek into the other cars and imagine where they were going. Once they reached their destination, there was always something to see or to do. After days in the confines of the back seat, there were finally allowed to stretch their legs, and in large cities there was always plenty to explore.

That was before Sam knew the truth. Sometimes, he wished Dean hadn’t told him about the real reason they moved around so much. Now, everywhere they went Sam saw the risks and dangers. And things were worse in cities. Where first Sam had loved those bustling streets, now he just saw that the roads were too crowded to provide proper escape routes. The many skyscrapers just meant that there were way too many people to protect. The buildings loomed over him, thousands of apartments with innocent civilians. Between the buildings were shadowed alleys, with hundreds of places where monsters could hide. Sam didn’t understand how to keep everyone safe with just his dad and his brother out there.

 

There was only one upside to staying in a city the size of Chicago. The big city would at least afford a measure of anonymity. Now that he knew the true reason for their unsettled lifestyle, Sam had decided to embrace his uprooted existence. He was tired of making friends only to have to abandon them again. He didn’t need anyone else to worry about.

When the teacher had introduced him to his class, there were more than 30 blank faces staring back at him, yet he had managed not to have to talk to a single person so far. He should have no trouble blending in and fading back out. In a school this size, he could easily find the crack to fall through. Nobody would question it.

In the same way, nobody would question the nine-year-old who would spend his entire afternoon in the library today, and tomorrow, and the rest of the week. There was so much to catch up on. John had been so angry when he’d found out that Sam knew - that Dean had told him - what their father did. But Sam would show him. Sam would prove that he could be useful too.

 

He was walking back from a long Tuesday afternoon of digging through the library archives when something rolled against his foot. His head was still swimming with obituaries and newspaper articles and it took him a moment to recognize the object as a football. Just as he started to wonder where it had come from, a voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“Hey white boy! Throw us back the ball would ya!”

His head snapped up towards the source of the noise. Behind a large wire fence was a dusty football field. A large blue-and-white sign declared it part of the Upward Youth Centre. A group of this youth, mostly teenage boys in makeshift football gear began to gather at the field’s edge. Encouraged by the first shout, they started up a chorus of jeers.

“Yeah ghostie, throw it back!”

“Let’s see your throwing arm, kid.”

Sam shrugged off his backpack and picked up the ball. The taunts from behind the fence got louder, but Sam ignored them. He spun the ball absentmindedly between his hands, judging the height of the fence. Uncle Bobby had shown him how to properly throw a football last year, when Dean had been away and Dad on another hunting trip. That had been a good summer - though Bobby didn’t talk much he was a pretty good cook and he let Sam play outside whenever he wanted. The junkyard was a cool place to explore. He hoped he could do it again with Dean there too. Maybe they could play ball together.

With a sudden quick movement, he shifted the ball to his right hand, leant back, and flung it over as hard as he could. The ball sailed up, spinning around its axis as it easily cleared the fence and sailed further into the field.

The boys on the other side hooted and cheered as they ran after it. One of the smaller boys stopped and removed his helmet, revealing a messy bunch of curly black hair. He smiled over at Sam. “Hey kid. Nice throw.”

Sam nodded back politely, retrieved his backpack, and walked off.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He was walking by the same youth centre the next day when someone called out to him. “Hey white boy! Wait up!”

Sam had half a mind to just keep walking. He was tired, hungry, and no closer to finding something useful than he had been last night. Yet he was so used to doing as he was told, he just stood there and waited. One of the youth centre boys jogged over. He recognized him as the curly haired boy from the other night. This time, he was wearing a loose black shirt and baggy jeans. “What you doin’ out so late? You live around here?”

Sam nodded, keeping his head down. ‘Please go away,’ he thought.

“You like ‘em?” The boy twisted his feet, showing off the new sneakers he thought Sam had been looking at. “Buford gave ‘em to me. Says I got potential,” he boasted.

Sam nodded again. He really didn’t want to start a conversation now. He just wanted to get home, dump the library books and get some sleep before dad got back.

The youth-centre boy had other ideas though. “Alright. Hey, I can’t keep calling you white boy. You got a name?”

“Sam.” Sam said grudgingly.

“Okay Sammy.”

“Sam.” He interrupted.

The boy grinned. “Okay, that’s cool. No disrespect man. My name’s Derek.” He held out his hand. Sam hesitated before he took it in a firm grip.

“Allright. Now bring it up.” Derek turned his hand. “Yeah, that’s a good handshake right there. You got a mighty nice throw on you too.”

Sam couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yeah. You’re pretty good yourself.”

Derek looked pleased. “I know. Football’s gonna be my ticket outta here. I’ma get myself into college.” He seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then he turned back to Sam. “Looks like you’re gonna get in on smarts alone, ain’t ya.” He gestured at the books piling from Sam’s backpack.

Sam looked away. “Something like that.” He said dully.

Derek, sensing he’d hit a nerve, didn’t press the subject. “Hey, practice is breaking up now anyway.” He said lightheartedly. “How about I walk you home?”

Sam’s jaw tightened. “I can take care of myself.” He muttered roughly. He was tired of being underestimated. Tired of being a burden to watch after and carry around. He could stand on his own two feet now.

Derek took a moment to survey him, but then he nodded quietly. “I’m sure you can kid.” He said placatingly. “How’s this, how about you walk me home instead?”

Sam looked up at Derek for the first time. When he’d seen Derek yesterday, he’d seemed like one of the smaller boys, but he was still a good bit taller than Sam. He had the awkward build that was so common for boys about to start their growth spurt. For a moment Sam wondered if the older boy was just trying to make fun of him, but his smile seemed genuine, and Sam decided he’d be glad with some company. “Yeah, that’s fine. Home’s this way.”

 

They walked along side by side for a while, Derek chattering away about football or something while Sam nodded at the right intervals. After a while, Derek stopped mid-sentence and looked over at Sam.

“You’re being pretty quiet there kid. What you thinkin’ about?”

Sam frowned and weighed his options. Dad had said questioning the locals was part of the job. He might as well give it a try. “I heard there was a ghost around here.” He said carefully.

“Ha! You scared little man?” Derek punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it. Ain’t no ghost gonna scare me.”

“I’m not scared!” Sam said indignantly. “Just curious.”

“Well, there’s no such thing as ghosts, I don’t care what anybody says.”

Sam saw his opportunity and pounced. “Why, what’ve they been saying?” he said eagerly.

“Look, it’s just some kids with too much imagination, y’know what I’m saying?” Derek said dismissively. “Everybody’s just a lil’ messed up cause of that kid we found in the alley.”

“What kid?”

“Look, I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?” Derek said, looking uncomfortable.

“Yeah, sure. This is me anyway.” Sam said, coming to a stop outside low house. For once, Sam was glad that they were squatting instead of holed up in some ratty motel. He knew it was illegal, but at least this way it seemed like he was just a normal kid, living in a normal house. The place was a dump of course, but besides the unkempt lawn and one boarded up window, it looked enough like a normal house to fool people like Derek.

“You’re living here?” Derek said incredulously. “This place’s been abandoned since before I was born!”

Sam shuffled his feet. Apparently Derek wasn’t fooled. “We’re just passing through,” he said dismissively.

“This is no place for a child to live.”

Sam felt a sudden anger flare up inside him. He was tired and hungry and he had no time for stranger judging his family situation. He knew his life was messed up. He didn’t need other people to point it out to him. “Shut up.” He shouted, angry and embarrassed. “Just mind your own business, okay?” Sam didn’t wait for an answer. He stormed up the short driveway and slammed the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam had thought that that outburst would be enough to scare the older kid off. He was proven wrong when he found Derek waiting for him outside the school gates the next day. To his surprise, Sam was kind of relieved to see him there.

But he knew he couldn’t afford to get attached to anyone here; dad could decide to move on any day now. So instead of going up to him, Sam kept his head down and tried to walk past him. As he passed him, Derek reached out and grabbed him by the arm. “Hey, c’mon man, don’t be like that.”

Sam shrugged his hand off and tried to look standoffish. “I don’t need your pity party, thanks. Go find someone else to bother.”

“Cool out, Sam! I used to be an angry kid just like you. The world ain’t your enemy, kid.”

“I’ve already got an older brother, thanks.”

“Yeah, so where’s he at?”

Sam needed a moment to process that. Normally, Dean would have been waiting for him after school, but lately Dad had been giving him a lot of extra chores; probably punishing him for blabbing to Sam. Sam felt too guilty to confront him about it, but the truth was that he’d been lonely without his brother to talk to. Not that he was going to tell any of that to some random stranger. “He’s busy,” he answered curtly.

“And I’m not.” Derek said triumphantly, as if that settled the matter. “C’mon, lemme show you the ropes around here. Live a little.”

Sam still hung back, though the thought of hanging out with Derek seemed more appealing by the minute. “I can’t. I’ve got to go to the library.”

“C’mon little man, how about you ditch the school-work for once.”

Sam sighed. He was starting to like Derek, with his boundless enthusiasm and easy smile, but he knew that would only lead to disappointment. “You’re a good person Derek, but we’re going to be leaving pretty soon anyway.”

“All the more reason to enjoy yourself while you’re here.” Derek grinned.

Finally Sam gave in. “All right, lets hang out. But you have to tell me about the ghost.”

Derek’s face fell. Sam could swear he saw a look of fear pass over his face, but the moment passed and Derek simply looked pensive. “It’s really not that big a deal you know.” He said doubtfully. Seeing Sam’s determined face, he relented. “Fine, I’ll show you where it started. It’s on the way to my house anyway.”

 

Derek led the way to an alley off the main road. Sam had expected to need to draw the story out of him, but once there, Derek began talking unprompted. Apparently it was something he needed to get off his chest.

“We were cutting through here on our way home, me and a buddy. I lost a ball in this alley right here, and when I went to go get it, I saw him. The dead kid. He was just laying there, y’know. A kid just like me. The cops thought he was murdered or something, but they never found out who did it.” Derek looked really serious. “Anyway, it really scared some of the other kids.” Sam noted how Derek didn’t include himself in that group, even though he’d seemed pretty scared before. “They started making up all kinds of stories. Some of them say they’ve seen him hanging around the UYC. Just standing there staring at them all creepy and stuff. Some of the kids say that by looking at him he can steal your soul.” Derek looked at Sam, obviously hoping for some kind of reaction.

“It’s going to take more than that to scare me.” Sam said dryly.

“Tough kid, ain’t ya?” Derek grinned. “C’mon, let’s jam. I know this ace place to watch movies.”

“Hang on.” A violent death could lead to a haunting, so Sam had to be sure there weren’t any cold spots or ectoplasm residues. That’s what all the research said, anyway. But this could very well be Sam's first ghost, and he wanted to do it by the book. He walked further into the alley. “So what happened to the body?”

“I held a collection so he could be buried up at the cemetery.” Derek called. He didn’t follow Sam down the alley, instead pacing up and down at its end.

Sam stopped and looked back. “That was nice thing of you to do.” Sam said, and Derek bowed his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. Sam smiled and hopped down from a pile of rubble. “Okay, I’m done here. Let’s go.”

 

The ‘ace place’ Derek was talking about appeared to be a rundown theatre a couple of blocks away.

“All right, the movies start in about 20 minutes, so that’s enough time to sneak in the back. Just pick out a show, and I’ll get us to the right room.” Derek said.

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Duh. But unless you got cash to spare, how else are we gonna see them? Pick a movie.”

Sam felt a little uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to seem like a wimp. He walked up and down the row of movie posters. Derek quickly gravitated towards a poster of Silence of the Lambs, but Sam was drawn to a poster with two silhouettes dancing in front of a glowing red light. A girl, and a monster. Beauty and the Beast.

“‘The most beautiful love story ever told.’” Derek read from the movie poster. “Really, this is the one you want to see? I thought you were hip, and now you want to go see a children’s movie?”

Of course, this only cemented Sam’s resolve. “You said I could choose.” he said stubbornly.

“So I did.” Derek conceded.

Derek led the way round back of the theatre, and by squeezing through a crack in the wall there, they found their way behind the scenes. Derek nimbly climbed up the rafters and found them a good place to sit. They were at the other side of the screen from the theatre, which meant they’d see a mirrored version. The sound wasn’t that good back there, but they had a great perch in the rafters. Despite himself, Sam felt a little excited doing something illegal like this.

They shared Derek’s dinner while they watched the movie. Derek’s mother had packed chicken sandwiches.

 

As the credits rolled, they clambered back down and made their way outside.

“Okay, that wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it’d be.” Derek said.

Sam smiled and reveled in the after-theatre glow. Belle had loved the Beast despite him being a monster. For some reason, that idea gave him hope.

“I should get to practice.” Derek said. “Shall I carry your stuff for a while?” Before Sam could stop him, he reached for Sam’s bag. And almost immediately dropped it.

“Whoa! This bag weighs like a ton. You’re in fourth grade, why’d you need so many books?”

“I’ve got a lot of… extracurricular stuff.” Sam said, avoiding his gaze.

“Whatever man.” He slung the backpack over one shoulder. “Walk me to UYC?”

 

When they reached Upward Youth Centre, Sam stopped and turned to Derek.

“This was really nice Derek, but I don’t get it. You’re a jock, and I’m a nerd. And you’re like twice my age. There’s no reason for you to be this nice to me.”

Derek laughed. “I’m not that old!” Then he sighed, before kneeling down to get on eye-level with Sam. His smile was gone, an earnest look on his face now. “Look, I won’t say that I know what you’re going through, but I recognise that look, okay? You’re angry and closed off, but you can’t shut out the world forever. Believe me, I’ve tried. I did a lot of things that could’ve scared away the people close to me. But when I hit rock bottom, there was someone there to pull me out. Buford vouched for me when I needed it. He helped me see that I’ve got two sisters and my mother to take care of. And he showed me how I could do that. I’m just trying to do the same for you. You livin’ in a bad part of town, and I see you staying away from home as long as you can, hiding in your books. You got a father and a brother, right? They’re your people, and you can’t let them down. Don’t abandon the people you’ve got, y’hear?”

Sam nodded meekly. It was true, he had been angry at his family, even though he’d done his best to hide it. Angry for keeping the biggest secret of their lives from him. Angry for dragging him into a life of monsters and madness he’d never asked for. But maybe Derek was right. Maybe he shouldn’t hold on to that kind of anger.

“Look, I gotta bounce, but if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me, aight?” Derek pointed at the youth centre behind him with his thumb. “Talk to you later.” He dumped Sam’s bag at his feet and jogged over to the youth centre.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day when school was out, Derek was waiting for him in the exact same spot. Sam smiled and jogged over.

“Sup lil’ genius?” Derek grinned

“I got an A for my writing assignment!” Sam told him proudly.

“Tha’s my man!” They high-fived. “Listen, I can’t hang out today, I promised to help out at the youth centre today. There’s a couple of boxes of old files that need to be carried out back.”

Despite himself, Sam was a little let down. He was really glad for the company, and it had been kind of cool to hang out with an older kid. “That’s all right,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. “I have some reading to do anyway.”

“How’s this, why don’t you come lend a hand. You’re strong enough to lift a bunch of papers, right?”

Sam perked up immediately. “I can do that!”

“Oh yeah? Show me those muscles then.” Derek laughed. Sam balled his fist and raised his arm. Derek nodded appreciatively. “You’re the bomb, kid. Let’s go.”

 

They were just crossing the basketball field towards the centre’s entrance when it happened. It was only there for a second, but it was undeniable. The image of a young, dark-skinned boy flickered onto their path for a moment. He was dressed in clothes that were too large for him, and held a blue-white baseball cap in one hand. The other hand he held up in a warning signal.

“Did you see that?” Derek asked, looking worriedly back at Sam.

But Sam was still reeling. A ghost, an actual real live ghost. Up until now, he could’ve pretended that what Dean had told him about monsters existing wasn’t actually real. Now he’d seen it with his own two eyes. “I… I gotta go.” He stammered, turning on his heel and sprinting off back down the road.

 

 

“Dad! I found it, I found the spirit!” Sam stormed into the house, his cheeks red and his eyes shining with excitement. He didn’t even put down his pack or take off his coat before crossing the room and putting the paper he held in his hand on the desk. He flattened it carefully before turning it right side up for his father. He cast a proud smile at Dean, who sauntered in from the adjoining room to follow this conversation. It hadn't been easy to find the information he'd needed on a Friday evening, but he'd managed to find all the documents he'd need to make a case for his father.

John looked up distractedly. “Spirit?” He made a last note in his journal and closed the book, leaving the pen in as a bookmark. “What are you talking about Sammy?”

The boy’s smile faltered a little. “The ghost, sir,” he ventured apprehensively. “It’s been seen around the youth center two blocks from here.” Sam had been so sure this had been a test. That it had been his job to prove himself here. Why else had dad pulled them out of school yet again? Why had he dragged them all the way over to Chicago? And to a place with a haunted youth centre a mere two blocks away? That couldn’t be a coincidence.

To his relief, John took the police report he’d brought and skimmed through it, thick fingers tracing the words. “Yes. Such a violent death would certainly qualify it.” He mumbled, before turning his strict gaze on his youngest son again. “You say it’s been seen?”

Sam realized he’d been leaning forward to watch his father read and he quickly straightened up again. “Yes sir.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do unless we know where the remains are.”

Sam reacted as if stung by something, quickly removing his backpack and digging into the sets of papers he had. Finally, he produced the file he was looking for.

“The burial record.” He said, handing his father the paper. “But dad, I don’t think it’s violent.”

John froze, fixing his son with an icy glare.

“It’s been seen hanging around the youth center, but it there haven’t been any unexplained accidents around. I checked.” Sam stammered. He took  a deep breath and recited what he’d read before. “Sometimes spirits linger on because they have unfinished business. They attempt to communicate with the living to pass on their message. Once their reason for staying is dealt with, they can pass on peacefully to the next life.”

Sam flinched when John snatched the list from his hand. “There’s no such thing as friendly spirits boy.” John grunted, reading the paper. “And there’s no such thing as a next life. If it’s dead and trapped here, it’s dangerous, and we kill it.” He said, and his voice brooked no argument. “But, since you found him, I’ll let you finish the job.” He folded the burial record back up and held it out to Sam.

This took Sam by surprise and he took a startled step back. “Sir?”

“I have other business to attend to.” John said, placing the record on the corner of the table and turning back to his journal, seeming to lose interest in the conversation. “You’re old enough now to start working for the family business.” As if in afterthought, he turned to his older son, who had been quietly watching the exchange. “Dean, take Sammy to the graveyard. Make sure he does it right.”

“But Dad.” Sam started to protest, but Dean stepped forward and took his younger brother by the arm.

“Let’s go Sammy.” Dean hissed, steering him towards the door.

 

 

They walked to the graveyard in silence, Dean carrying two shovels and a jerry can of fuel, Sam holding a bag of rock salt. The headstone they were looking for was at the end of its row. It was blank, except for a date. The empty slate made Sam feel even more uneasy. They didn't even know who he was.

“This here your friendly ghost, Casper?” Dean quipped.

Sam looked nervous. This was all happening way too fast. “Dean, I really think we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Dean laughed a humorless laugh. “Oh, and you want to go back and tell dad you chickened out? No way. Come on, let’s torch this sucker.”

 

It took a long time to dig out the grave, longer than Sam had expected. Just as they’d finally cleared most of the casket, Sam saw something flicker in the corner of his eye. He hurriedly nudged Dean. “Look.”

At the edge of the grave stood the transparent form of the young black boy Sam had seen outside the youth centre. He stared at them with hollow eyes, not fully understanding what was going on. Dean immediately leveled his spade at him, whereas Sam dropped his and grabbed a handful of rock salt and got ready to throw. The ghost, however, didn’t react. He just stood quietly at the edge of the grave and watched them.

“Dean?” Sam whispered. “He’s not doing anything.”

Dean slowly lowered his spade. “Well. Good.” He said slowly. “Then let’s just finish the job. Keep an eye on it.”

 

Sam climbed awkwardly out the other side of the grave, not letting the spirit out of his sight. The boy cocked his head, seemed to be thinking. Finally, he pointed to himself, and mouthed ‘Can you see me?’

Sam shot a glance at Dean, but he was preoccupied with opening the casket, so he nodded quickly.

The ghost began to talk rapidly, but he still made no sound. Sam shook his head and pointed at his ears. The boy frowned.

Sam jumped when Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We’re good to go.” Dean said. He pulled out a silver lighter and waved it in front of his little brother. “Will you do the honors?” He grinned playfully, but Sam didn’t return his smile.

“Dean. Look. He’s not even fighting us.” He gestured at the boy. There was something profoundly wrong with attacking someone, or something, that wasn't even fighting back.

Dean’s smile disappeared and he got that stern look on his face that made him resemble their father. “It just knows it doesn’t stand a chance.” He grabbed Sam’s wrist and dropped the lighter in his hand. “Light the damn thing!”

But Sam just stood there with the lighter on his outstretched palm, staring up at his brother. “I can’t Dean. I can’t.”

Finally, his brother sighed dramatically. “Fine. Just don’t tell dad.” Dean snatched the lighter back and clicked it.

Sam looked across the grave again. The boy was mouthing something at him again, but he couldn’t quite make out what it was. The boy pointed at the sky. ‘Upward. You send it.’

Sam nodded, tears in his eyes. The boy should go to heaven. He really hoped so.

When the flames started, the boy didn’t even look angry. He was more surprised. ‘No! Wait!’ he mouthed.

Sam looked away until the light died out.

 

As they walked away from the graveyard, Dean put his arm around his younger brother’s shoulders. “This is a good thing Sammy. You’re part of the family now.”

Sam nodded quietly, but he couldn’t help thinking; if this was a good thing, why did he feel so miserable?

 

* * *

 

 

Sam woke up late the following morning, but even as he opened his eyes he wished he could go back to sleep again. Thinking about last night made him feel sick to his stomach. He could still smell the fire. If he could, he would have spent the rest of the day in bed with the sheets pulled over his head, but he knew his dad wouldn’t accept that. With an inordinate effort, he managed to drag himself out of bed.

He took his time getting dressed as he rethought the events of last night. He could hardly believe he'd been looking forward to being included in the family business. He was supposed to feel happy now, proud to have slain his first monster, but the look in the burning ghost's eyes wouldn't let him go.

It had seemed like the ghost had been trying to tell him something...

 

He was just sitting down to breakfast when Dean and his father walked in. Dean walked straight through to their improvised bedroom, but John stayed in the living room to address Sam. “Pack your things Sam. We’re moving out.” He said curtly.

Sam dropped his spoon. “What?”

“The job’s done. We’re leaving. There’s something going down at Blackwater Ridge.” John said, grabbing his journal and his bag.

That was more explanation than he’d usually get, but Sam was still confused. “Wait, no, we can’t leave.” He said, getting up from the table.

John stopped packing and gave Sam a dangerous look. “Little Sammy flares up one little ghost and suddenly he thinks he should run the show?” He sneered.

Sam bit his lip nervously. The smart thing to do would be to back down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean sneak back into the room. When Dean caught Sam’s eye, he quietly shook his head. But Sam always had more stubbornness than self-preservation. “Dad, I just think there’s more to this. I think we should stay a couple more days, find out more about how that boy was killed.”

“That’s not our job Sammy.” John explained with forced patience. “Our job is to kill the monster and move on.”

“That’s just it Dad, I don’t think the kid is the monster.”

“Oh. Is that what you think, boy?” John asked, taking a step towards him. Sam flinched, but John turned to face his other son. “Dean, did the spirit burn when you torched the bones?”

Surprised by suddenly being pulled into the conversation, Dean quickly straightened up. “Yes sir.” He blurted out, standing at attention.

“That’s it then, case closed. Pack your things Sammy. We leave in an hour.”

 

John left them to their packing. Dean let out an angry huff. “That was a close one. You really shouldn’t provoke him like that.” He led the way to the bedroom, where they’d shared a mattress this past week. He took a seat on the single unbroken chair in the room and watched Sam collect his few belongings. His own stuff was already in the duffel bag by the door.

“I know.” Sam said morosely. It felt like the day was only getting worse. In his heart he'd really hoped that they'd be able to stay a little while longer this time, as a sort of reward.

“C’mon kiddo, you know not to get too settled.” Dean said as Sam folded the last T-shirt into his own duffel bag.

“I know.” Sam repeated glumly. He looked up at his brother. “There’s just someone I would’ve liked to say goodbye to.”

“Oooh, is it a girl?” Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Cut it out.” Sam answered, flinging the T-shirt at Dean’s head. “It’s just a friend I made at the youth centre. I just need five minutes to explain that I’m leaving. Please.” He pleaded.

Dean sighed. “All right. I’ll figure something out.” Dean hopped off the chair and sauntered over to Sam’s side. With a quick move, he wrapped one arm around Sam and ruffled through his hair with his free hand. “Anything for my little brother.”

“Leggo!” Sam squirmed until Dean released him. He straightened up and ran his fingers through his hair, looking at his smiling brother. Dean was a pain sometimes, but whenever he needed him, he would pull through. “Thanks.”

 

 

Dean was true to his word. As they drove by Upward Youth Centre, he made eye-contact with Sam in the rear view mirror. Sam nodded once.

“Whoa! Stop the car!” Dean shouted.

Startled, John slammed on the brakes, launching them all forwards against their seatbelts.

“What?” He exclaimed angrily, but Sam didn’t wait to hear what kind of explanation Dean would give.

By the time Dean had stammered out a defensive “I thought I saw something”, he was out of the car and across the road. He didn’t stop when he heard his father shout behind him. If anything, he ran faster.

 

He felt his heart drop when he didn’t see Derek on the playing field where he’d hoped he’d be. The usual gaggle of kids were playing, but his friend was not one of them. Then he spotted him at the side of the club house, hiding in the shade. He sprinted over.

“Hey Derek.” He panted. “I don’t have much time. My dad got a call from further west and we’re leaving again today. Hey, are you okay?”

Something seemed off about Derek. He stood hunched over, his hands shoved deep into his jean’s pockets, and a scowl had replaced his ever-present grin. He seemed to have aged overnight. He was avoiding Sam’s eyes, but when he finally did look up, they seemed older somehow.

“It's nothing. It's my own responsibility to deal with. So you're heading out?”

Sam looked over his shoulder, but his father wasn't in sight yet. “Yeah. I guess.” He shrugged. “Listen, you don't have to worry about the ghost any more.”

"Why? Did you take care of it, little man?" A shadow of Derek's former grin returned as he reached out to ruffle Sam's hair.

"I did." Sam said, finally feeling a hint of pride.

"Atta boy." Derek dropped his hand. "Somehow I don't really feel safer though." He said, a haunted look in his eyes as he scanned the field.

A hollow feeling settled in the pit of Sam's stomach. "Derek, what's going on?” Sam said softly, stepping forward.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

“There you are.” His father’s voice sounded above him. “No more tricks Sam. We’re leaving.”

Despite Sam's protestations, John steered him around. “Be careful Derek!” Sam shouted over his shoulder as his father roughly pushed him towards the car.

The reply was only just loud enough for Sam to catch. “Yeah. Watch yourself kid.”

 

John shoved Sam into the backseat of the Impala, and made sure to click on the child’s lock before slamming the door shut.

“Not another word out of you.”

Sam dropped into the back seat with a huff. He was definately sure now that something was off about this case. His dad might not be able to see it, but there had been more work to do here. He only hoped that someone else might be able to find out what had happened to the nameless boy, and someone to look out for Derek.

For now, there was nothing Sam could do. While he was under dad's care, he would have to go where they took him. But it wouldn't always be that way. Dad might be able to drag him around the country like a talking piece of luggage, but Sam was still his own person. One day he’d be old enough to make his own decisions. He decided right then and there, that when he came of age, he wouldn’t let his father’s wishes hold him back from helping people.


End file.
